


It’s the Thought That Counts

by servecobwebheadaches



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Chastity Device, Christmas, Humiliation, M/M, Overstimulation, cock spanking, small dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-18 22:34:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13109883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/servecobwebheadaches/pseuds/servecobwebheadaches
Summary: It’s Christmas, and there’s something waiting for Brendon under the tree, all discreetly wrapped up.  Ryan imagines that when Brendon opens it, he’ll lose all of his faux-dominant behavior and be putty in Ryan’s hands.  He can’t wait.





	It’s the Thought That Counts

**Author's Note:**

> Have yourself a very ryden Christmas!! Come by my tumblr servecobwebheadaches to say hi. Hope everyone who voted for this fic to be about humiliation (and everyone else) enjoys it!! Love to Casey just-folie-a-deux-it for editing!!

“It’s the  _ most  _ wond-er-ful time of the  _ yeeeaaar _ !”

 

Ryan sits bolt upright in bed at the loud, echoing sound of Brendon’s voice, his eyes flying open.  Immediately, he is filled with regret at the bright light of the room, and at his decision to open his eyes.  He blinks a few times before burying his head in his hands.  Brendon’s still singing, and he feels any hope of going back to sleep fade away from existence.

 

“Good morning, B,” Ryan sighs, weary at the prospect of being awake already.

 

“Morning, baby!” Brendon calls.  Ryan looks up to see his over-eccentric boyfriend practically skipping towards the bed, naked and still dripping wet from a shower.  His energy makes Ryan’s head hurt, and he has no idea how Brendon could be so lively at this hour.  It may be well past nine a.m., but that’s still too early for Ryan.

 

Without hesitation, Brendon jumps up on the bed, throwing himself at Ryan, and kissing him hard with a smack of his lips.  Ryan barely manages to kiss back, too caught up in the way Brendon got the sheets wet, and how his hair is dripping cold water down Ryan’s neck and making him shiver.  In that moment, with Brendon beaming and tugging at his arm to get him out of bed, Ryan has never wanted more to pin him down by his wrists and make him be still.  He could already picture that look on Brendon’s face, when his eyes glaze over and his jaw goes slack, beautiful lips parted in awe as the tension leaves him and he begins to become aroused . . .

 

“Dry off,” Ryan says, pushing past Brendon to get out of bed.

 

“Then get me a towel,” Brendon counters, brow arched like he’s daring Ryan to challenge him on his command.

 

Ryan sighs again.

 

Of course today he’s in the mood to dominate Brendon when it’ll be the hardest to do.  Luckily, he’s been planning a scene for today for weeks.  Ryan’s sure Brendon will submit to him by the end of it, no matter how bratty he’ll try to be.  It’s Christmas, and there’s something waiting for Brendon under the tree, all discreetly wrapped up.  Ryan imagines that when Brendon opens it, he’ll lose all of his faux-dominant behavior and be putty in Ryan’s hands.  He can’t wait.

 

By the time Ryan’s gotten dressed and ready for the day, Brendon’s in the kitchen, making coffee and singing more obnoxious Christmas music.  Ryan despises the Christmas sweater Brendon’s wearing with a pair of old blue jeans, and wishes quite vehemently to get him naked again.  It sends him into thinking about Christmas in years past, when it’s been Brendon who has done something solely sexual as Ryan’s Christmas present.  This year the tables have turned, as Ryan will be the one to initiate a scene this year, but it was just last year that Ryan had woken up alone in bed, only to find Brendon himself under their fake Christmas tree, wearing nothing but a red bow around his waist and a collar around his neck, telling Ryan he was his sex toy to use all day.  Ryan’s hard at just the memory of it.  He finds himself slipping his hands up underneath Brendon’s sweater while he pours coffee, just to touch his skin.

 

Brendon quickly puts an end to Ryan taking pleasure in that with a, “Uh-uh.  No touching until you let me open presents,” Brendon says.

 

Ryan moves to pull Brendon closer by his hips.  “Don’t be a brat,” he says in Brendon’s ear, a firm warning.

 

“It’s Christmas, Ryan, I’ll be as bratty as I wanna be,” Brendon says, turning around to quirk his eyebrows at Ryan with a daring grin.

 

“Well, then maybe I won’t give you anything for Christmas at all.  Naughty boys don’t get presents.”

 

“You won’t be able to resist,” Brendon says simply, and turns around to pour more sugar into his coffee.

 

Ryan watches Brendon’s wrists and thinks of rope.  “Make me a cup of that, will you, sweetheart?” Ryan asks, taking a more gentle approach.

 

It works, as Brendon doesn’t make any snide comments back, and does as Ryan tells him to.  The coffee is a bit sweet for Ryan’s liking, as he usually takes it black, but he does not complain.  Brendon watches him take a couple sips, asks if he wants peppermint in it, and stares him in the eyes as he leans back against the counter, jutting his hips forward.  “No peppermint,” Ryan says, “it’s already sweet enough.”

 

At that, Brendon forces the mug out of his hands and gulps down half the coffee himself.  Ryan scoffs and turns away, as though he would walk back to their bedroom.  “Okay, B, you’ll have to behave exceptionally well at Spencer and Jon’s if you want  _ any  _ of your presents today.”

 

“What if I don’t wanna go at all?” Brendon says.

 

“We’re going,” Ryan says, firmly, “especially since you’re in such a festive mood.”

 

Brendon huffs.  “Fine.  I’ll make you more coffee.  But still no touching me until I get to open presents.”

 

“We’ll get to that.”

 

Brendon does nothing to cool the coffee before handing it over to Ryan, serving it to him black this time, and leaving the mug burning hot everywhere beside the handle.  Ryan takes the lead into the living room, where he carefully lowers himself and his beverage to the floor in front of the pile of presents under the tree.  He picks up a present, a medium sized box all wrapped up with a tag dedicated to Brendon stuck on it, and looks up at Brendon to say, “For you.”

 

Brendon reaches out to take it, but Ryan pulls his hand just out of reach.

 

“Ryan,” Brendon complains.

 

“Come sit, first,” Ryan says, patting the floor between his legs, “and promise to be good.”

 

“I’ll be good,” Brendon replies, voice soft, before he realizes his automatic response.  “As long as you’re good to me,” he quickly backpedals.  Ryan smirks to himself, seeing right through Brendon.  He and Brendon both know what’s going to happen within the next few hours—Brendon will progressively fall for Ryan’s dominance until he’s behaving like a good, textbook submissive.

 

Brendon sits between Ryan’s legs, leaning back against his chest, and Ryan carefully hands him the gift.  As Brendon unwraps the paper, Ryan places the hot ceramic of his mug on Brendon’s covered thigh, knowing the heat would be seeping through and giving Brendon that pain he desired in a sensitive part of his body.  Brendon, generally, loves heat play, whether it was from wax or something as severe as branding—though they had yet to try that one.  This seems to distract Brendon, as he pauses, and Ryan waits until he starts squirming and whimpering from the pain to pull away the mug, and take another sip of his coffee with smugness.

 

The gift is a set of headphones, brand new and fairly expensive for anything Ryan would’ve considered buying a couple years ago.  Together, he and Brendon are more than comfortable financially now, but they’re both still conscious about wasting money.  This is Christmas, though, and if expensive things are what it takes to give Brendon what he wants, Ryan’s willing to fork over the cash.

 

“Oh, thank you.  I needed a new pair of these,” Brendon says, and then chuckles to say, “Another pair to lose on tour.”

 

Ryan hums in thought.  “Maybe I’ll just have to decide for you, then, when you get to use them.”

 

“No fair,” Brendon pouts.

 

“Well, sweetheart, you just won’t do anything worth me punishing you, will you?” Ryan murmurs.  Really, Ryan knows punishing Brendon would never include anything as material as taking away his headphones—it would be orgasms, more.  But Brendon seems to take him seriously, even if just for a moment, as he immediately hands the headphones over to Ryan.  His eyes are wide and bright brown, searching Ryan’s as their gazes meet.  Ryan smiles at him, more smugly than anything else.  It makes Brendon realize that he let his guard down, and he squares his shoulders against Ryan’s chest.

 

Ryan can tell, without a doubt, that the hard work is done.  It usually doesn’t take much to make Brendon submit, when Ryan has to try at all.  By this point, Brendon’s behavior is all a front for his hidden desires—desires to be held down and used up for all the beauty that he is.  Now it’s just waiting, waiting for Brendon to admit to himself that he’s not the one in control here, that it’s all up to Ryan to decide everything for him, that it’s in his best interest to bow his head and say, “yes, sir,” in order to get what he wants.

 

Brendon’s gifts to Ryan of material items are sweet and innocent enough, had anyone else been watching their exchange, but Ryan knows Brendon’s motive behind the candles, silky scarves, and so forth.  When he opens his second Chanel black leather belt, he knows Brendon practically disregarded their deal.  He’s even afraid that Brendon’s going to outdo him in their grand annual gift of something inherently sexual, but then he remembers it’s his turn to buy said gift, and Brendon’s  _ disobeying _ him by doing otherwise.

 

“Baby boy,” Ryan begins, “what made you think I wanted a belt for Christmas?”

 

Brendon shrugs, not paying any mind to what he’s doing to Ryan, as he greedily reaches for his next present under the tree—a small box with a bow around it.  Ryan knows what’s inside, and he grabs it from Brendon quickly, not letting him even imagine what it could be.  That’s the gift, the one Brendon has to save for last.  To divert Brendon’s attention, Ryan lightly wraps the belt in his hand around the boy’s throat.

 

Flinching, Brendon brings his hands up to feel the belt tighten ever so slightly around his neck.  Ryan slips the end through the buckle, making Brendon a faux-collar and leash.

 

With his remaining composure, Brendon says, “This isn’t the appropriate use of a belt.”

 

“This isn’t an appropriate use of your lips, either, but I’m letting you talk for now, right?”

 

“You need a belt to keep your pants on.  I know you have a hard time with me around.”

 

“Only since you’re always begging for it, sweetheart.  I’m sure you’re thinking about my cock right now, aren’t you, B?”

 

Brendon stills and goes quiet, hands laying idly in his own lap.  Ryan tightens the belt around his neck a bit more, still giving him plenty of room to breathe but adding a bit of pressure.

 

“Aren’t you?” Ryan asks again.

 

Needless to say, he’s more than pleased when Brendon finally nods.

 

“You want me to fuck you?” Ryan whispers.

 

Brendon nods again, and a little sound escapes the back of his throat.  It sounds like heaven to Ryan, and he’s ready to hear just how loud he can make Brendon.

 

“Well, it’s a shame, then, that you’ve been such a bad boy all morning.  I don’t know if you deserve it.”

 

He whines and goes limp as Ryan pulls him into his lap by his belt.  Brendon makes an attempt to grind down on Ryan’s crotch, but it does nothing but make him look desperate.

 

“It’s Christmas, B, so maybe I’ll give you what you want if you ask real nicely . . .”

 

Apparently, Brendon hasn’t slipped to the point of begging yet, as he gets defiant yet again.  “I’m not done opening my presents yet.  Maybe you’ve given me something better than sex this year,” he says.

 

Ryan almost laughs.  He removes the belt from around Brendon’s neck, humming in consideration.  Brendon has two presents left to open, and none of them will please him like Ryan does.  Besides, Ryan couldn’t name anything off the top of his head that Brendon would consider better than sex, or else Ryan would have bought it for him by now.

 

“Open the big one, B.  It’s all for you,” Ryan says.  There’s a large rectangular box taking up a bunch of room under the tree.  For some people, it would be the focal point of Christmas, the biggest and best gift of the year, but he knows that’s not the case with Brendon—because of the box in Ryan’s hand.

 

The big gift is a vintage guitar.  It’s one Ryan’s seen Brendon eyeing for months now, but the price tag has always scared him from buying it for himself.  Ryan has to admit it’s a beautiful instrument, and if he wanted yet another vintage guitar to add to his own collection, he would be elated if Brendon bought it for him.  So he let his bank account take the hit, knowing the look on Brendon’s face would be repayment enough.

 

Sure enough, Brendon’s at a loss of words when he sees it.  For a few moments, he simply examines every surface of it, making awed noises with bright eyes.  Then, he looks to Ryan as his overjoyed smile fades, and asks, “How much did this cost?”

 

Ryan ruffles Brendon’s hair as he stands, taking the guitar with him.  “Oh, don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.”

 

With those words alone, Brendon seems to melt.  Ryan sets the guitar carefully against the couch in the living room, safe from any accidents at either of their hands.

 

Ryan can see Brendon starting to break down, and it takes Brendon a moment to ask, “Wasn’t it expensive, though?”

 

“There’s no price on the things you want, B,” Ryan replies.  He presses a kiss to Brendon’s temple, sitting back down again.  “You’ve been such a good boy for me all year . . .” he practically coos, and pats his thigh for Brendon to come curl back up in his lap.  Brendon obeys, the praise and gentle yet condescending words seeming to do wonders on him.  “. . .and I just want to give my pretty boy all the things he wants,” Ryan continues.  It’s having an effect on Brendon, Ryan can tell from the way he keeps shifting his hips.  He kisses Brendon’s neck a couple times, slow and sensual, and gets his lips close to Brendon’s ear to say, “But you’ve been so  _ naughty _ all day, I think your next present is fitting . . .”

 

Brendon gulps as he takes the gift Ryan hands him.  Ryan wonders if he knows, if he’s already guessed what’s inside before opening it.  It’s not something new on Brendon’s wishlist for sex, but Ryan’s been slow and thorough on his research before buying this particular toy.

 

Underneath the wrapping paper and all the innocent, festive holiday charm of the gift is a chastity cage.

 

The element of surprise is obviously still there, as Brendon’s breath hitches when he sees it, still in the package, complete with its own little key.  Now, Ryan wouldn’t just spring this kind of thing on him with no warning.  Brendon’s been asking to try chastity for months now, but Ryan hasn’t been ready to be the key holder for his cock cage.  They’ve done things with orgasm denial before, but it’s taking things to a new extent to lock Brendon’s cock up.  Ryan’s had to do his research and feel out what Brendon really wanted before buying the cage for him.

 

As Brendon examines the package, Ryan says, “I was thinking we could try it out tonight, you know, just at Spencer and Jon’s.”

 

“I thought you didn’t want to try this,” Brendon says.

 

Ryan shakes his head.  “I don’t know, it seems pretty hot to me.”

 

Brendon smirks, and all too late does Ryan realize he’s stopped being as dominant as Brendon needs him to be.  “Seems hot to you?  Oh, baby, Ryan.  I didn’t know you wanted  _ me _ to be the keyholder for your dick,” Brendon mocks.

 

It’s no time to tease around the possibility of having a scene anymore.  There’s no need for Ryan to remain gentle with Brendon, his submissive.  He takes a fistful of Brendon’s hair and tugs, forcing him to look up and bare his neck.  “You better watch that pretty mouth of yours or I’ll shove my cock so far down your throat you won’t be able to fucking breathe.  Understand?”

 

“Yes,” Brendon manages to gasp out.

 

“Yes, what?” Ryan asks, tracing his fingers on one hand down Brendon’s stomach, closer and closer to slipping under the waistband of his jeans.

 

“Yes, sir,” Brendon whispers.

 

“Good boy.”  Ryan lets go of Brendon’s hair, leaving him to crumple in Ryan’s lap.  “I’m going to take you to bed now so we can lock that little cock of yours up.  You’re not going to come until I think you’ve earned it.”

 

He roughly leads Brendon to their bedroom, taking the chastity cage with them.  All of Brendon’s other gifts, seemingly less important in the moment, stay abandoned in the living room.  Although for the mood Brendon looks quite ridiculous in his torn jeans and ugly Christmas sweater, he still somehow manages to look pretty to Ryan.  “Take off your clothes,” Ryan says, not moving his eyes from Brendon’s flush face.

 

Brendon does as he’s told, removing his sweater and jeans, revealing his erection that hadn’t been noticeable until he’s standing there in nothing but boxers.  His cock is small enough that he can be hard in public and have it go virtually unnoticed, with no effort, as long as he’s wearing jeans.  When he wears something skin tight like his leather pants, or when he’s stripped down to his underwear, it’s revealed how small he truly is.

 

With Brendon standing in front of him, wearing almost nothing, he looks at Ryan with gleaming eyes that tell how vulnerable he’s feeling.  Ryan smiles, reveling in the way that he’s gotten what he wanted, having the power over Brendon that he’s been aiming for since they woke up.  Brendon’s skin is radiating heat as Ryan carefully slides his boxers off his hips.  His cock springs up, hard and straining.  He has a breathless look on his face, lips parted and skin flush.  Ryan tries to hold eye contact with Brendon, slowly reaching out to touch his cock, using only fingertips, but Brendon’s eyes dart down to watch Ryan’s movements.

 

Ryan doesn’t think he can put the chastity cage on him when his cock is hard, and ever so slightly larger than before.  Even as Ryan caresses the head of Brendon’s cock until pre-come begins to wet his thumb, Brendon maybe measures in at four inches, if Ryan’s being generous with his estimate.  He never thought of asking Brendon to get an exact measurement until he began shopping for chastity, and Ryan couldn’t stop thinking about knowing a real number to play around with when teasing Brendon about his tiny dick.  But Ryan couldn’t ask him to do that before now, because it would give it all away that he was shopping for chastity.

 

He’s awfully good at teasing, anyway, and doesn’t hesitate to do so.  Brendon loves dirty talk, enough to make him weak easily, so Ryan will take that to his advantage at any time.

 

“Oh, you  _ are _ a naughty boy.  You shouldn’t be hard right now.  You’re just a sex toy to use up.   A slut.  You don’t deserve to be turned on.  And you shouldn't be allowed to come, especially not with a cock that small, so I’m going to lock up your dick.  But I’m going to let you come one last time, just because it’s Christmas, and I’ll give you this little present.”

 

“Fuck me?”

 

“Don’t be so eager.”

 

Ryan steps closer to Brendon, and backs him up into the bed.  He falls on his back, looking up at Ryan, who reaches down to run his fingers up his chest, brushing a nipple.  Brendon bites his plush bottom lip as Ryan pinches the sensitive skin gently.  “I prepped myself already,” Brendon offers, “all for you.”

 

“You naughty little thing.  No, you’re going to get yourself off.  I want to see what you can even do with a cock that small.”  Ryan takes Brendon’s hand and puts it in his lap, so he’s completely covering his cock.  “Show me how you pleasure yourself.”

 

Brendon looks down, and uses only one finger to stroke the head of his cock.  He looks up at Ryan for approval, and Ryan nods once, encouragingly.  His hand starts working faster, then, running only a couple fingers and this thumb up and down the shaft.  He’s too small to comfortably use his whole fist; too small to get the proper friction needed to get himself off.

 

He’s blushing, seeming embarrassed.  Ryan could humiliate him further, tell him how pathetic he is for not being able to even jerk off properly, but he doesn’t want to take things too far with Brendon.  Nothing too intense before locking his cock up—Ryan wants that to be the focal point of their scene.

 

When he gets all worked up, Brendon starts making these beautiful noises that drive Ryan out of his mind, so pretty and tempting.  Ryan just watches, Brendon’s eyes squeezed shut, and feels his cock throb in his pants.  He doesn’t touch him, doesn’t say a word, until Brendon lets out a frustrated whine.  He seems unsatisfied with the mere act of touching himself.  “Is there something wrong, baby boy?” Ryan asks.

 

“I need you to finger me,” Brendon doesn’t hesitate to whine.

 

“Now that’s not a very nice way of asking, is it, B?”

 

His hips thrust up a bit desperately, his fingers hitting his pubic bone.  “Please finger me, I’m so close, please—”

 

“Why should I finger you when I’m already being so kind as to let you jack off?  Tell me why.”

 

“I—I can’t—I can’t come without something in my ass, please, I need—”

 

“You cockslut,” Ryan says.  He pushes Brendon back by his chest to lay down, and the boy splays his legs open.  “You’re going to finger yourself while you play with that little cock of yours.”  He guides Brendon’s hand to suck on his own fingers.  At the sight of Brendon looking up at him with his fingers in his mouth, Ryan thinks he might come for a moment, before he regains his composure.  “Go ahead, be a good boy and make yourself come for me,” Ryan urges.  Brendon obeys, slipping his newly-slick fingers between his legs and two into his ass.

 

It doesn’t take long of Brendon fucking himself with his fingers and delicately stroking his cock for him to tip over the edge.  He moans, his torso twisting, as his come coats his stomach and chest.  Ryan can tell that it’s an intense orgasm, taking a lot from Brendon, but Ryan doesn’t wait for Brendon’s refractory period to settle before taking hold of the chastity cage.

 

The cage is a plastic one, clear, and should close smoothly over Brendon’s cock.  Ryan takes it apart in the palm of one hand, careful and steady, wanting everything to go perfect for Brendon.  “I hope you enjoyed that, B, that’s the last time you’ll be coming for awhile,” Ryan says, listening to Brendon panting on the bed.

 

Just as Ryan’s about to fit Brendon’s cock into the cage, he notices a major problem.  A flaw in his plan.  Something isn’t quite right with the chastity cage, Ryan sees, as he holds it close to Brendon’s cock.  The boy is watching the whole thing, too, pushed up on his elbows, staring at Ryan between his legs.  He realizes the issue right after Ryan does, Ryan can tell.

 

It’s too big.

 

Brendon’s cock is about an inch too small for the cage to fit him properly.  Ryan doesn’t even try to fit it on him, as he knows it would be uncomfortable and mostly useless for Brendon.  He’s a little bit in shock that the cage is too big for him, but he’s mostly embarrassed that he ordered the wrong size and presented it to Brendon with so much confidence.

 

Right as he’s about to break down, ditch his role in the scene, and apologize to Brendon for making the mistake, he looks at Brendon’s face.  His lips are trembling, his cheeks are bright red, and his eyes are cast down with—what? Shame? Arousal?  He appears to be gazing down darkly as his cock twitches again.  Ryan’s smirk returns as he realizes Brendon’s even more embarrassed than he is.  It’s the perfect opportunity to tease Brendon more.

 

“How  _ pathetic _ ,” Ryan says, really laying it on him.  “I knew you were tiny, but even I overestimated you.  I thought at least you’d be able to fit the smallest size cage I could find, but your little cock—if I can even call it that—doesn’t even come close.”

 

Brendon’s hard again, as if he hadn’t just came moments before.  Ryan reaches down and touches his erection, using only his second and middle fingers. Brendon flinches with a sharp intake of breath, still too soon after his first orgasm.

 

“I don’t know if it matters, sweetheart, that I can’t cage you,” Ryan continues, rubbing his fingers slowly up and down Brendon’s cock, “that I can’t lock your dick up and really start having control over you.  I don’t know if it matters, B, because with a cock that small, you can’t even get pleasure with it, anyway.  You’re still getting punished for being a brat today and, ah, disappointing me like this—on Christmas—but I know how much of a cockslut you are.  I know you can’t come without me helping you.”

 

“Oh, god,” Brendon groans, “you can help me all you want.”

 

“Soon you’ll be begging me for mercy, baby boy.”

 

Ryan patiently strokes Brendon’s dick for awhile, only capable of light touches of his fingertips.  He loves hearing Brendon’s desperate whimpers and seeing him restlessly shift his hips.  To speed along the process, Ryan pulls a nice vibrator out of Brendon’s nightstand, along with some lube.  He grins up at Brendon as he slicks it up, and he watches Brendon stick his bottom lip out in a pout of frustration.

 

“Please fuck me, why can’t you just fuck me?  I’ll be good, I’ll—” Brendon pleads.

 

“Because you’re not ready yet.  I want you crying and practically screaming for my cock before I fuck you.  That’s when I’ll know you’re ready.”

 

Before he can reply, Ryan pushes the vibrator inside him instead, and earns a raw, genuine moan from Brendon.  It’s fast moving now, with Brendon’s panting picking up in pace and his noises getting louder.  Ryan loves it.

 

“I’m sure that feels good, baby doll.  You need some stimulation outside that little cocklet of yours.”

 

Ryan fucks him with the toy, an overwhelming contrast to the way he’s touching his cock.  It takes a little bit longer for Brendon to come again, but he does, spilling a small amount onto Ryan’s fingers.  Standing over him, Ryan grins as Brendon’s eyes open back up from his euphoria, waiting for Brendon to realize his mistake.  When he does, his eyes go wide, his bottom lip trembles.  “I—I didn’t mean to, I couldn’t help it, it just felt so good—” Brendon rambles.

 

“You know you’re not supposed to come without my permission,” Ryan says softly.  He reaches down to continue fucking the vibrator in and out of Brendon, as though he hadn’t just come.  “You’ve been such a brat today, and brats deserve to be punished.”

 

Brendon whimpers when Ryan turns the vibrator up a notch and slams it into him.  “Please, I can’t, I don’t think I can come again,” Brendon says.

 

Ryan places a hard spank to the most sensitive place on his body to silence him—his cock.  “You’re going to come as many times as I want you to.  I can’t take you seriously with this pathetic excuse for a dick.  You don’t deserve it.”

 

He spanks Brendon’s cock again, watching it bounce, in this in-between stage of going soft and getting hard.  His hand is so much bigger than Brendon’s cock that he leaves a handprint on his lower stomach.  Brendon cries out in pain and squirms beneath Ryan, his cock so, so sensitive.  With another spank, he’s getting hard again.

 

He’s sobbing consistently by the time he comes, between the pain and the oversensitivity.  Ryan knows all of it is countered by the pleasure he’s getting from the vibrator, buzzing intensely against his prostate.

 

Brendon is a total mess, shaking all over.  Ryan steps back and takes a moment to admire him, thinking about how beautiful he really is in the moment.  His hair is all messy and stuck to his forehead with sweat, eyes glossed over, lips wet and bruised from where he had been biting them.  His face and neck are red, only rivaled by the color of his abused cock, darker than ever after undergoing a spanking.  Between his legs, the vibrator sticks out, still on and at a high setting.

 

Ryan wants him bad.  He’s hot with arousal, and takes off his shirt, envying Brendon’s nakedness. Brendon’s out of it, the vibrator having its effect on his over-sensitive body, still whimpering, rolling eyes welled with tears.  Abruptly, just to hear Brendon beg, Ryan shuts the vibrator off and pulls it out of him.

 

“I’m surprised that little cock let you come again,” Ryan says.  “It seems too small to be pleasurable.”  

 

Ryan reaches to touch it again, and Brendon cries with a flinch.  “Please . . .” Brendon sobs.  His cock twitches under Ryan’s fingers, as he’s somehow still aroused.

 

“Please what?  I can’t even touch your cock without you crying.  How pathetic and  _ worthless _ , slut.  That little thing is good for nothing.  You couldn’t even fuck someone if you tried, could you? You’d just keep slipping out and humiliating yourself.  The only thing you’re good for is to be used as a hole to fuck.  So you’re all mine, whore, all mine to use as a sex toy.”  Ryan undoes his pants and takes his cock out, stroking it as he reaches for the lube.  Brendon is almost silent—aside from the occasional groan with his cock defiantly getting hard again—and he stares at Ryan’s dick with wide eyes.

 

“I’m done with that little cock of yours, but I’m not done with you.  This is what a real dick looks like, baby doll, I think you should know what it feels like, too,” Ryan says.

 

Tears of humiliation drip from Brendon’s eyes as he nods.

 

“Well, what do you say, baby boy?  I want to hear what you want.”

 

“Please, I want your cock.  I want you to use me and fuck me.  Please, sir, I need your big cock to fill me up so good, please fuck me!”

 

“Oh, good boy,” Ryan says, and pushes into him in one smooth thrust.  He holds one of Brendon’s legs up around his waist for leverage, and uses the other hand to balance against the bed next to Brendon’s head.  His hips rock into Brendon’s with force enough to creak their mattress, which is still relatively new.

 

Brendon moans and sobs, not having enough power to push back into Ryan, laying there and letting himself get fucked.

 

“Is this what you wanted?” Ryan growls, thrusting even faster into Brendon.  “Does this get your pathetic little cock hard?  I know this is all you wanted for Christmas, you brat, getting fucked and used like a cheap whore.” Ryan groans, looking at Brendon’s swollen lips, his hard nipples, his weakly twitching cock.  He doesn’t know how he’s going to last long enough for Brendon to come again before him, but it really makes matters worse when Brendon replies.

 

“I’ve been thinking about this— _ oh— _ all year.  I just wanna— _ fuck _ —get fucked all the time—I need your cock.  Oh, please—please,  _ sir _ —please don’t stop,” Brendon whines.  It almost sounds too dirty to be genuine, but with the way he’s panting, the way he can barely keep himself coherent, Ryan knows he means every word.  He has to hold back from coming instantly when he hears how wrecked Brendon sounds for him, and he barely manages.

 

“You’re gonna come again for me, then, aren’t you?  Even though I’ve already let you come three times, you’re just that much of a cockslut . . .”

 

“Please let me come again,” Brendon begs.

 

“Just because it’s Christmas,” Ryan says.

 

Sobbing loudly, and with Ryan still fucking him, Brendon comes untouched.  It’s one of the weakest orgasms Ryan’s ever seen Brendon have, as the boy is completely spent. Ryan finishes soon after, filling Brendon with his come, making him shiver with pleasure one last time in their scene.

 

Still crying, Brendon curls in on himself when Ryan pulls out.  Ryan quickly loses all his tension and meanness to begin taking care of Brendon.  He strokes Brendon’s hair and praises him, “It’s all over now, sweetheart, you did so well, such a good boy.”

 

“Ryan,” Brendon whimpers.

 

“I know, B, I’m here.  It’s all okay, you’re so perfect for me.”  He pulls Brendon against his chest, holding him, gently petting his hair and shushing him.  Brendon’s trembling like a leaf.  He’s usually like this after scenes that are particularly intense for him; weak and shaky.  “You’re my good boy, so good for me.  You can just relax now, B, don’t you worry about a thing.  I’m going to take care of you.”

 

Brendon nods against Ryan’s chest, but Ryan knows that’s about all the movement Brendon can manage at the moment.  He’s limp in Ryan’s arms.

 

“Let’s go get you cleaned up and into some warm pajamas.  I want to get all cozy with you back in bed, okay?” Ryan says.

 

Brendon nods again, face smushed against Ryan’s collarbone.  Ryan carefully wraps his arms around Brendon to pick him up as he stands, not expecting him to be able to walk.  He also simply loves being able to carry him sometimes, to hold him tight and fully take care of him.

 

Ryan runs them a warm bath, and drops one of the holiday bath bombs in that Brendon insisted on buying off himself the last time they were out.  Ryan doesn’t mind, as he quite likes them, too, albeit not as much as Brendon.  In the bath, Brendon snuggles up against Ryan’s chest, wanting to stay close.  They’re both a bit more clingy than usual after scenes, but it helps them come down and recover.  Ryan sneaks a few kisses to Brendon’s neck, and eventually Brendon turns around to meet his lips.

 

For soothing purposes, Ryan washes Brendon’s hair for him, along with the rest of his body, ensuring Brendon having to put in the least possible amount of effort.  When Ryan has to touch Brendon’s cock, Brendon shudders, and Ryan apologizes by massaging his thigh.

 

After the bath, Ryan dries Brendon with the softest towel in their household, Brendon’s obvious favorite.  He helps Brendon into warm clothes to hopefully stop his shivering—a sweatshirt of Ryan’s and a pair of loose boxers.  “Back to bed?” Ryan asks.

 

“Carry me?” Brendon requests.

 

Ryan’s heart melts, and he’s forced to comply.  He tucks Brendon in, then leaves momentarily to retrieve him some nutrients.  For his body to recover, Brendon needs something to eat and drink, so Ryan returns with a glass of water and some peppermint truffles.

 

Brendon’s still half awake, which is somewhat of a surprise to Ryan.  His eyelids are drooping, though, and he doesn’t move upon Ryan’s arrival.  “Okay, lover, I’m back,” Ryan says, so not to scare him.

 

“Did you bring me water?” Brendon murmurs, not even lifting his head.

 

“Yes,” Ryan says, setting the glass down on the nightstand and sitting beside Brendon.  “I brought some candy for you, too.”  He helps Brendon sit up before handing him the water.

 

“I don’t want anything to eat yet,” Brendon says, as he leans his weight completely into Ryan’s hands.

 

“You need something before you go to sleep, so you have energy later, baby boy.”

 

He pouts after gulping down some of the water.  “I forgot we had to go out tonight.”

 

Ryan eases him to lay back down.  “Don’t worry about it.  It’s just Spencer and Jon’s.  They won’t care if we’re a little late.”

 

Brendon closes his eyes and nods, seeming reassured.  With shaky fingers, he reaches out to pull Ryan into bed with him.  Ryan makes quick work of burying them under the covers, and wrapping his arms around Brendon’s waist.  “Were you really gonna make me wear the cage to their house?” Brendon asks.

 

Ryan pops one of the bite-sized truffles into Brendon’s mouth when he isn’t paying too much attention.  “Yes,” Ryan says, “unless you didn’t want to.  Then it would’ve waited.”

 

“It would’ve been fun,” Brendon says, after he finishes the truffle, “for my first time.”

 

“I’m sorry I messed up.”  Ryan kisses his neck again, nestling his face in the crook of Brendon’s shoulder.

 

“You made up for it, baby.”

 

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.  I didn’t want to ruin your Christmas.”

 

“You didn’t.”

 

Ryan sighs, pulls Brendon closer, and allows his own eyes to close.  “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, breath rustling little strands of Brendon’s hair.

 

“I love you,” Brendon replies.

 

“I love you, too.”

 

With a final kiss, they both settle in to sleep most of the day away, curled up together.  Before completely passing out, Ryan puts on some mellow Christmas music, just a quiet background murmur.  He prefers Brendon’s voice, but wants the boy to rest as much as he can.  Holding Brendon in his arms, there’s no place Ryan would rather be—no way he’d rather spend his holiday.


End file.
